


I See My Whole Life Ahead of Me (With You)

by Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee (orphan_account)



Series: Sladiver Week 2019 [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: M/M, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 13:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20778983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Books_and_Cats_and_Coffee
Summary: Oliver reminds Slade that beings vulnerable isn't always a bad thing.(Sladiver Week Day 3: Prompt: Vulnerable)





	I See My Whole Life Ahead of Me (With You)

Slade looked at his own wrists, flexing his fingers experimentally. His expression was almost idle, posture as casual as he could be in his position. “Your knots have vastly improved,” he commented dryly, voice just as composed as his features. One corner of Oliver’s mouth lifted as he checked the ropes, making sure the knots weren’t tight enough to cut off circulation. He trailed his fingers down Slade’s arm, moving them in light circles to massage the skin.

“How do you feel?” It wasn’t phrased as a challenge, anyway Slade analyzed it. He shrugged nonchalantly, as best he could in his situation.

“I’m not complaining.” Still, it wasn’t easy for him. Slade wasn’t used to showing such emotions as uncertainty or desperation. He wasn’t used to giving up control.

“That wasn’t my question.” Oliver pressed the matter, not willing to let it go, or continue if Slade had any doubts. Even this was difficult for Slade, talking wasn’t his strong suit to begin with, and now, clarifying whether he was comfortable or the opposite, it simply wasn’t part of his personality. Oliver hadn’t asked a simple yes or no question, he wanted an answer, and an honest one.

“I feel alright,” Slade said, and Oliver brushed his finger tips over his arm in an affectionate gesture, happy he had gotten a response.

“Well done,” he said the words with a quirk of his lips, and Slade snorted, seeming to shake away the feeling. He moved onto the bed gracefully, sliding a knee over Slade’s thighs to straddle his hips. Oliver dipped his face forward, bracing his hands on either side of Slade, kissing him and nipping softly at his bottom lip. Almost immediately, Slade’s lips parted.

The archer had better leverage and control, an obvious fact, and he was the first to move away, feeling the miniscule gesture Slade made after him. For a moment, he didn’t move, looking into the dark eye. Then, his hand rose, the fingers brushing just underneath the patch of leather that still covered Slade’s right eye. He felt the Australian tense, and his hand paused, waiting for Slade to object. But he merely relaxed again, not breaking eye contact with Oliver. The archer pinched the patch between his thumb and index finger pulling it up, and Slade moved his face down a little, allowing it to slide off more easily. Oliver set the piece of leather aside.

The thumb of Oliver’s finger brushed over his cheek, just underneath the ruined eye as the archer kissed him again. Then, Oliver tipped his head, pressing featherlight kisses down Slade’s neck, once pausing to nip the skin lightly and roll it between his teeth. Slade inhaled sharply, it was not only audible, but Oliver also felt his chest rise quickly. He moved slowly and methodically, making sure Slade felt every brush of his lips, making sure the feeling lingered even after he had moved away. Slade’s chin tipped upward, almost on reflex, and once again, Oliver moved away. Slade’s hands tightened, but he didn’t pull at the restraints.

Oliver lifted his leg, moving off the edge of the bed and crossing the carpeted floor. Slade’s gaze tracked his movement closely. He lifted up a strip of cloth, turning around again and stepping up next to the bed, setting it on the side table.

“Remember our conversation?” Oliver asked. Once again, the idea of talking didn’t seem to settle well with Slade. He nodded in response to the question, a bear tip of his chin. Oliver sighed softly. He rested on the side of the bed for a moment, his fingers tracing the shape of Slade’s jaw gently. He wasn’t surprised when Slade met his gaze directly. He never shied away from eye contact. “I need you to talk to me.” The words were just as soft as his previous statements, but there was a calm steeliness to his tone now. “Do you understand?”

“I do.” It took a moment admittedly, but when Slade did reply, it was steady and clear. Oliver leaned in, brushing his lips over Slade’s in the barest mimicry of a kiss, then, he pulled away.

“Good.” He turned to the bedside table, lifting the cloth off of it and shifting on the bed to face Slade more squarely. “Lift up your head for me.” Slade followed the order, and Oliver let the cloth fall over his eyes, securing the blindfold behind the back of his head. Slade relaxed again slowly, his head moving slightly as he adjusted to the feeling. “Too much?” Oliver asked, his hand still hovering next to it.

“No.” It was short, but it was an answer, spoken without an ounce of hesitation. Oliver swung his legs onto the bed, rising up and placing one knee on the mattress between Slade’s legs, and bracing his hands just above Slade’s shoulders, leaning forward to catch Slade’s earlobe between his teeth carefully. He smirked at just how fast the Australian replied. He inhaled sharply, and Oliver would have bet anything his eye had just closed. He angled his head to go lower, and traced the column of Slade’s neck, leaving a trail of faint marks that he knew would quickly fade. He took his time, moving with a precise, almost lazy slowness, appreciating the leisure this one time they had it.

He shifted his body lower, pressing a kiss to the dip just above Slade’s collarbone. His hand ran along Slade’s side, tracing the bumps of his ribs, obvious under the taunt skin. Oliver sat upright, taking a moment to admire the sight of Slade’s body and the impressive condition the Australian kept himself in. One hand went to Slade’s belt, easily undoing the buckle and pulling the leather free off the pant loops. Oliver let it fall to the floor with a muffled thump. He rose up onto his knees, and reacting to the sudden absence, Slade subtly arched his back, trying to sense where Oliver was and feel his next movement. The archer leaned forward, hand trailing a line down Slade’s chest and stomach, feeling the tension in his skin.

“Relax,” he ordered. “I’m right here.” He dipped down, his mouth following the line his hand had traced. He felt Slade forcing himself to relax, he knew this place was safe, that Oliver would have gone through every security measure before even considering it. When he looked at it that way, it was simple, easy, a matter of trust. He would die for Oliver, trust Oliver to hold his life, to have his back, anything. He didn’t need to think twice. So maybe this was different; far easier to be hurt by, but Slade didn’t want to drag his tactical mind into it. Oliver’s lips pressed a final kiss to the bone of Slade’s hip as he sat up, hands pressed against the Australian’s sides and slowly travelling down to rest against the waist of his pants.

“Lift your hips,” Oliver gave the instruction with a calm authority that he didn’t use often with Slade. The Australian would be lying if he said his first response wasn’t to follow the order. Maybe he wasn’t used to hearing the archer use such a tone, but that didn’t change the fact that he did it well. Oliver slide the jeans off. Slade felt the wind from the material as Oliver folded them and set them aside with obvious precision. The slow, careful way he moved was unusual for them. Maybe it was the lifestyle, but usually, neither of them acted like that.

Oliver’s hands ran over the bulge now just covered by a thin layer of material. Slade shifted, instinctively going to move his hands to the body on top of him only to remember the ties. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such undivided attention, and unable to reciprocate it. Lips brushed under his jaw, opening further and touching the skin gently, Oliver’s hand now steadily tracing his cock. “Do you trust me?” the voice, low now, not a command but a question, would have been inaudible if Oliver was any further away.

“Utterly.”

He could feel the smile against his skin. Oliver hooked his finger under the waistband, still showing no sign of wanting to act more quickly. Slowly, emphatically, he slid the material down and away. Slade felt the brush of material against his leg.

“Are you still dressed?” he asked, curiosity getting the best of him. The response he got was a kiss, Oliver hovering for a moment.

“Yes.” The word was calm and simple. Oliver didn’t move on right away, choosing instead to take Slade’s shaft in one hand, slowly pumping it, pressing kisses and small nips across his collarbone. The Australian’s breathing had quickened, mouth falling open. Oliver’s hand was skilled, his thumb occasionally brushing over the tip to deepening his teasing.

Slowly, he moved to kneel in between Slade’s legs, his lips leaving the Australian’s skin once again. His hand continued its ministrations, and though he couldn’t see, Slade could _feel _Oliver’s eyes on his face. The thought alone brought a wave of warmth crashing low in his stomach and drew a quiet groan from him.

“Do you want to continue?” Oliver asked. Slade did his best to lift his head and turn it towards the direction of the archer.

“I do.” Slade replied. Oliver pulled away, the heat of his body blocked the clothes he was still wearing, and Slade subtly reached out, trying to find where he was. He felt a hand rest on his thigh, reassuringly.

“Wait for me, I’ll be quick,” Oliver’s hand pulled away and Slade heard his soft footsteps retreat across the room. The silence now was intense, his own breaths seeming impossibly loud. It wasn’t much longer before Oliver returned, the bed dipping under his weight. He trailed kisses down the middle of Slade’s body, slowly descending past his chest, then stomach, pausing just below his navel for an agonizing second before continuing. His mouth closing around Slade’s cock, the sudden stimulation doing very little to help the Australian’s already ragged control.

He would have thought that Oliver would have just teased just like before, pulling off before Slade could quite reach his climax. He was wrong, and the intensity with which Oliver worked was breathtaking, quite literally.

The archer’s tongue traced masterful patterns against the hard flesh, his hand fondling wherever his mouth wasn’t. He interchanged his speed, sometimes going slowly, other times, speeding up until Slade could barely anything but white.

Slade barely had time to recover his lost air when the wave crashed down over him, and Oliver was immediately next to him, whispering things Slade could barely hear, kissing his lips and brushing soft fingers over his forehead. Easily untying the blindfold and pulling it away.

“You alright?” Oliver’s question finally came to him, and vaguely, Slade wondered if he’d asked it a lot.

“I am far more than alright.” He said honestly. Oliver hmm’d against his skin, gently massaging his shoulders and arms, relaxing the muscles there that Slade had instinctively tensed just seconds before. The Australian could feel the archer’s body against him now, a real, weighty presence that urged him to reach out to Oliver. His partner seemed to sense his thought, because a moment later, lips brushed over his gently, and Slade eagerly returned the kiss.

“I’m happy to see you doing so well,” Oliver murmured to him. “I was worried maybe it would be too much.” The Australian would have snorted at that, but Oliver’s lips were back on his own, and he was too occupied. Oliver fumbled with the knots around his wrists, letting his arms free and immediately, Slade’s hands went to his body.

It had been quite the experience, and letting Oliver tied him up hadn’t nearly bothered him as much as Slade expected. The archer had suggested it. The Australian didn’t have that grey headspace some people fled to when in distress, instead, he focused more intently on the world about him. He had never willingly relinquished control in such a way, and short as the period probably was, Slade felt content to know Oliver had his trust; completely and utterly. He felt calm, relaxed.

His hands mapped out the archer’s body, this time, slow and patient, just as Oliver had been earlier. When he slid his fingers under the hem of the archer’s shirt, the younger man shifted up, letting Slade pull it over his head. Immediately, he dropped down again, but for a moment, just paused, looking into Slade’s eye, one thumb stroking over his cheek.

“I love you.” There was so much more beyond those three words. So much more than no one could ever describe in any language. Slade felt the raised scar on Oliver’s back, gently trailing his hand over the faint ridge.

“What I ever did to deserve that, I have no idea,” Slade commented dryly. He saw the reproachful look in Oliver’s eyes and relented. “I love you too.” The archer smiled.

“I have a feeling.” He suggested softly. “That if you could see what I do, you’d understand.” There was so much fondness in those blue eyes, open happiness, that Slade, once again, couldn’t help but question his luck. “You are the most amazing man I have ever met,” Oliver continued. “You’re strong, in more ways that one, brave, confident, and reliable, but also so kindhearted and considerate.” Slade quieted him and the list of compliments by kissing him deeply. It worked, at first, but Oliver eventually shifted back, a glint of humor in his eyes. “On top of that you’re also really hot.” This time, Slade did snort, rolling Oliver over gently onto his back. He dipped his face to press a kiss to the side of his neck, feeling the archer tip his chin upward and out of the way.

“Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” Slade told him. Oliver scrunched his nose, the expression undeniably adorable although Slade would never tell him so. He didn’t think the archer would appreciate being called ‘cute’ or anything of the sort. For a moment, he grew serious. He had trusted people in the past, and almost all of them had betrayed him. Now, there was Oliver, the last living person he had given his trust to. The only person he had ever given himself to utterly. In all honesty, the archer could rip him apart if he ever wanted to, and that type of vulnerability was something Slade had always tried to avoid. Yet it was reassuring to have now, to know that Oliver accepted any weakness, he’d never target it.

The archer saw the change in his face, and he moved both hands to Slade’s face, concerned. “Everything’s okay now,” he told him gently. “No matter what it is, you don’t have to hide it.” The Australian nodded, taking one of Oliver’s hands into his own.

“I know.” He exhaled slowly. There was a weight gone from his shoulders now, the burden of being constantly alone, emotionally, mentally, physically. It was different now, because no matter where he went, what happened, he would always have Oliver. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> *loud fake cough*
> 
> YEAH.
> 
> I am once again on the streak of using old idea for the Sladiver Week because life. Also, this fic took a collective fifty something hours to write. Mainly because I had to google random stuff about a male perspective in sex and now my search history makes me look like a horny hetero single girl.


End file.
